New Year's Blabbering: Have One More

     The end of one year beginning of the next and the magical hope that this shiny new 365 days will be better than the ones before. Of course the first of those golden new moments is in the coldest harshest months where most complain about the cold.  (Not me though, never bothered me much and I still get snow days.)

      But human nature compels us to strive for perfection...or at least better than yesterday. Honestly that's what makes life so awesome. We have great capicity for screwing up, and the amazing ability to grow from that. And I totally made mistakes in 2014...but did a lot of cool stuff too.

     I also failed in my 2014 resolutions. I could blame life, it has a habit of getting in the way. I could blame my own laziness or listless ways. Could blame work. Could blame a lot of things. That never gets you anywhere, besides I figured it out: I made the wrong resolutions. Most of them were about changing things all at once, that never works. It's like changing your hair color from black to golden blonde. You could do it with one bottle of developer but you end up with a rat's nest or straw.

    So my resolution this year is simple: One more.

One more cookie.
One more slice.
One more push-up.
One more mile.
One more kiss.
One more hug.
One more dragon.
One more level.
One more minute.
One more snooze.
One more laugh.
One more push.

One more word.

Just one more....that's all I plan to do this year. May your 2015 bring you one more too.

Rust and bones

Nothing makes me so keenly aware of time like November. The masks of Halloween put away, the dread of over filling dinners yet to come. At work one grading period is finished leaving only 3 left to ram everything into. It's deceiving. It feels longer than it is. Same with writing. I took a little break, a couple of weeks turned into months, and from there it spirals. It seems so hard to start again.

But that's another hoax of time. I'd broken from routine, not writing. Note cards with scribblings, electronic pages with disjointed ramblings and half coherent impressions. They were just layered under the sticky notes and tabs reminding me to do the same thing I've forgotten to three days in a row. Distracted not retired. The weariness has crept into my bones but so did the muse. The desires still there, the pieces just have to be put back together. But that's another great thing about this time of the year. I love the smell of burning wood in a fireplace. The nice thing about a fire, once started the occasional stoking is all you need to make it roar back.

Monday night soap opera

Hello. I have a confession...I am a WWE fan.

There's an interesting amount of stigma associated with a phrase like that. Even from students I teach. I mentioned going to a RAW taping as a Senior trip and get the following: "Miss, you know that's fake?" or "God Miss only losers like that stuff." And I watch from the corner of the room as a couple of kids shift uncomfortably in thier seats. I know that looks. They want to defend not me but the sport they love. But how to do it without losing coolness?

Simple. Point out that wrestling is actually kind of cool. I admit I was a die hard Castle - watching fangirl on a Monday night. And don't get me wrong I still love Castle, but it's not my go to for Monday night any more.

It started when I was a kid. My Dad would take us to house shows at local colleges. Though I wouldn't admit it at the time (I was a teenage girl...who totally saw several areas of this as appealing, but not if asked) they were awesome. There's something about the energy of a live show that can't be beat.

But admitting it sometimes, especially as a female, nets you some backlash, backhanded remarks, and backsides as people turn and walk away. It just wasn't "cool." And yes, love for wrestling waxes and wanes with age, time, and storylines, but the true fans--the ones who have a soft spot for the sport--keep coming back.

Because there are moments. Like this one. See if you can spot the instant I fell back in love with WWE and more importantly Dean Ambrose. (Trust me there will be much more on my favorite Lunatic in later posts.)

For me that was my moment. It reminded me how fun, physical, and downright compelling wrestling could be. I was hooked again and I haven't looked back. I used CM Punk's grammar guides in my classroom. I used Ambrose gifs on my bell ringers. And don't get me stated on backgrounds on my phone or gallery. I wasn't that kid afraid to show my Fandom anymore. I even had lunch with other teachers who shared my problem of switching between ABC and USA on a Monday night.

And slowly students took notice. They approached like deer freezing if a car or group of peers passed to close, until they felt safe enough to ask. "Are you a fan?"

So I stand tall and say "Yes. I am a fan. I mark out when I should. I buy the merch. I follow the storylines. And I love every minute of it. So should you."

Now they meet Tuesday mornings outside our homerooms, drawing larger crowds. Unafraid and unabashed they speculate, they rehash, they enjoy. And I hope they never lose that.

Least Wonderful Time of the Year

There are few words that strike fear into the hearts of teachers turning them into gibbering shells of their former selves. "Curriculum rewriting," "grant money," and "Parent-Teacher night" rank up there, but the worst words are "Back to School."

More wretched words have never been spoken.

For many of us it's a remind that though we've been away from our students for a few months--2 in my case this year--we've still been working. Taking classes, rewriting the aforementioned curriculum, learning new and innovative ways to expand our students minds as they summarily ignore us, these are what most of us do over "summer break." 

And we deserve a break, I mean a serious break. I know this happens everywhere, but imagine being told your company found a groundbreaking new way to do business, like totally revolutionary. You're skeptical, but eventually buy in, bring others around, and lead the way to the future, only to be told that yeah even though you've almost totally implemented everything the results aren't what people expected so the company's going in a new direction. One you're excepted to buy into immediately, but it'll work this time. Or maybe the next, or the time after. By the fourth or fifth switch, you'd be a little unenthusiastic. 

That's teaching. Then you get told your performance depends on your product--the students--and how well they score on a test to determine your worth. And that there's no money to get the parts you need to fix the problem. Embrace the technology all the students use but also make sure they don't use it in the room. And even if you manage to somehow produce the most perfect results anyone's ever seen, you're going to be told to repeat it again or it didn't count. And everyone outside your job will hate you at one point or another. 

Yet, year after year we come back. We brush off the old, embrace the new all the time waiting for it to be replaces, and picking up the new guys left in the trenches shell shocked from the first round. We use humor, sarcasm, and a ton of caffeine, but we come back stronger each time. We do what we need to so those products we produce can think, feel, and be rational adults some day. 

I remember summer vacation ending as kid and you never get over that feeling. First day jitters, will the new kids like me, can I get all the work done, what if the lunch in the cafeteria sucks--most people leave this behind after high school. Others make a career out of it. 

So remember the next time you're in Target's Back to School section, not all of the screaming and crying you hear is from the kids. Just offer that poor teacher a coffee and dry erase marker then let them know it'll be all right. 

New Challenges

   Today hurt. It was one of those days where everything crashes down and makes you feel mentally and physically beaten. My arms burned, my hair stung against the roots, even my teeth ached. I can either stay here and let it defeat me, or try something else. I've done pretty well with my 30/30/30 challenge, but not well enough.

    So I wanted to try more. Take a deep breath and dive in, that's the only way. Sink, float, or surf I'll make something happen. :)

America meet Futbol

   Growing up in the northeast, football was that thing played in the fall reviving high school rivalries and a chance for malt vinegar on fries. So marrying a Mann U man has been interesting.

   The World Cup was something that I remember hearing about when I was a kid, but never really got into. In fact, soccer wasn't a big draw where I lived. It was the "sport" that those who can't sport played. Fortunately my man's patient and slowly introduced me to the what's really an entertaining game. Though this year, nail-biting isn't even close to describing it.

   This has provided me with some wonderful insight on the sport, the fans, and how others see it.

       It's a third world country game. Yeah heard people I respect say this. Can't figure this one out exactly except for maybe the fact that it's often shown in movies and television commercials as being played by young children in foreign countries playing on dirt or in streets with crumbling buildings. Of course let's just ignore that other countries play this like England, Poland, Greece, Spain, and pretty much the rest of the world. Boys, girls, men and women in like every other country out there...just not here. Instead of looking at it as "it's a game for those poor people who have nothing" it should be looked at as "damn, this is a sport everyone, everywhere seems to love regardless of income or geopolitical stability."

It really brings people together.

        It's just a lot of running and kicking. Yes, yes it is. But seriously you try running up and down a field between 90-130 yards. In rain, heat, ice, bugs, and vuvuzelas. Kicking a small round ball and making it curve in unnatural and perhaps supernatural ways doesn't come easy to most people. Try it some time, kick that soccer ball and try to make it bend midair and reverse direction. I'll wait.

       It's not as hardcore as American football. Yeah, nope. This is just from this year. Seriously I doubt most of use would keep going with a broken nose, running 100 yards, in 75% humidity.

Breaking player's nose doesn't stop them.

         The players cry/whine too much on the field. Ok, granted there's a lot of acting in the Cup. Lots. But that's not different from any other sport, they all have their time wasters and black eyes. Most people go to hockey (which I am a fan of so I speak from experience) to see fights. Football--to see the big concussive tackles that may or may not brain damage players. Baseball--nope, can't figure out why people go to see it.

        Futbol/soccer is as corrupt as any other sport. If you know nothing about FIFA other than the adorable "we fight match fixing" commercials, well Google them. The next two Cups are in Russia and Qatar. Russia was bad enough, but Qatar? Middle of a dessert, 120 F temperatures, floating Jetson's style air conditioners, and slave labor dying--literally--to build stadiums and housing. Compare this to the doping, murder charges, and embezzling of other sports and other sports seem like rank amateurs. 

     The fans are just as bad as any sport. Or good depending on your view. New to the sport? Some of them will make your life miserable if you ask what the pitch is. I've witnessed normal ordinary looking men and woman turn into raving lunatics when a goal kick is missed. Or an extra point kick. Or the puck is stopped at the line. Or the mirror-ball trophy goes to the wrong couple. It's all the same. Being a fan means being a fan. 

     Want more proof:

The standard:

Soccer

Hockey

The cute:

Soccer

Football

WTF:

    

    In the end a fan is a fan, sports are sports, and a good time is a good time. So give futbol/soccer a chance. Go to a bar and watch with fans. You might like it. At the very least you might find common ground in both agreeing that no one understands why people watch MLB. 

   Oh and ladies and gentlemen, there's one more draw. These men are seriously gorgeous. 

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

What can really be done in 30 days?

     Thirty days doesn’t seem like much, but a lot can change during them. Zombie outbreaks, aliens, your favorite wrestler going solo, the transition to summer mode and then the inevitable re-transition back to school, all could happen within 30 days. Heck every time I click on Facebook I’m thrown an ad for “change your shape/fate/life in as little as 30 days.”

    

     What is it about the number 30? It is a primoral number. So I guess that makes it important to some. It’s one of the last big stages of young adulthood. It is a nice round number.  Total number of major and minor keys in our tonal music--30. Heck it’s even the number of tracks on the Beatle’s White Album.  Honestly though, I think it’s a Goldilocks thing: not too big—like 50—and not too small—like 10—so people can feel it might accomplish something but if you don’t stick with it, understandable, it was 30 days.

    

     I know a ton of people doing 30-Day challenges. Work outs, diets, movie, you name it, but none of them are really ones I can get into. My “I’m bored with this now” kicks in and I lose interest. Or worse I hurt myself. The discs in my neck and back pop out a bit and WHAM I’m on the couch again.

     But what about my other interests? November’s a long ways off and I need to get myself into a writing routine. Was that more important then getting into shape? (Pearish doesn’t count.) So I decided to combine them both. I issued myself my own 30-Day challenge.

     Writing part, that’s easy. Forcing myself to sit for 30 minutes is easy. I have two assignments I need to complete and there are plenty of contests I can enter. Plus I found a place to get editing practice till mu heart’s content and fingers are bleeding.

     Now the working-out part, that’s tricky.  All my life it’s been about losing weight. And that’s worked out so well. It’s time to change that. It’s not about weight, it’s about strength. That’s what was missing. Exercise tapes a-plenty plus walking should do the trick and keep my hey-look-there's-a-castle-ness at bay.

So bandwagon it is!!!

    

     30 minutes of writing, 30 minutes of exercise, 30 days to get it right. Think the routine should be set by then. Nope, I'm not selling anything, think of it as action research or an experiment. Are 30 little days really a magical cure-all that will transform a person, or is it about setting a goal to achieve something. I side with the latter, but that makes for an even more boring blog, so 30/30/30 it is. Let's see how this goes.

 

     If it doesn't work there's always Photoshop.

 

Once more into the breech...